On my entire obscene face
there is something I’m trying
to achieve. It is colorless. It
is self-published. It is inner
fatigue. It is so superfluous!
It is part of an addiction I hate
and depend on. It naturally
enters into conversations.
It will induce a kind of slow
intuition. It will be sloppy
and corrugated. It will smell
pleasant. It will be animals
playing on a farm. It will be
completely alone. It will not
be so bad. It will be missing
out. It will have a vague sense
of relief. It will be committing
without action. It will be floating
on the surface of everything.
It will be an amorphous tedium.
It will be sleep. It will be a party.
It will be a good lunch and supper.
It will be a whole day and night.
It will be an indefinite field full of
universal life. It will be a giant lack
of noise. It will look like the cult
of humanity. It will look like it is
“only a manuscript” in a Johnny-
come-lately style. It will be hunched
over an illustration. It won’t tell.
It, strictly speaking, won’t exist,
full like a thing full of feeling.
Simone Kearney’s poems can be found in Ragazine (forthcoming), Bridge Journal (forthcoming), Post Road Magazine, Elimae, Maggy, Sal Mimeo and Supermachine. She was a recipient of the Amy Awards from Poets & Writers Magazine in the fall of 2010. She works as a lecturer at Rutgers and Pace University, and writes for the Thierry-Goldberg Projects gallery in the Lower East Side. She is also a visual artist, and lives in Brooklyn.